


Mementos

by mizsphinx



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Porn Without Plot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-23
Updated: 2012-07-23
Packaged: 2017-11-10 14:09:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/467172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mizsphinx/pseuds/mizsphinx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fred asks Hermione for a favour. Ninny that she is, she agrees to help him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mementos

**Mementos**

"Hermione!"

Hermione was startled from a very lurid daydream involving her and Fred getting it on against the trunk of Mrs. Weasley's shade tree. This was not the first time she'd had that kind of daytime fantasy. As a matter of fact, these imaginings even prevailed within her dreams at night. She supposed it was due to her six-month-going-on-seventh infatuation with the younger Weasley twin.

Feeling like she'd been caught, her heart skipped beats as she cried back: "Yes?"

"C'mere! I've got something I want you to do."

She instantly recognised the voice as Fred's.

Legs rubbery, stomach clenching with excitement, Hermione left the living room and made the climb up the stairs to the twins' bedroom. Although she knew the inside of the Burrow by heart now, she still took her time. She was more than a little nervous being in Fred's company. The way he made her feel, the way she developed a heightened awareness in his presence was just unbearable.

Finally, she made it to the twins' room. The door was open, so she stepped inside and found Fred surveying the northern wall. Because he wasn't aware of her arrival, she took the time to eye him appreciatively. He was wearing a white linen shirt, the sleeves ending just past his elbows, and a pair of long khaki trousers that fit him well. With his hands shoved into his trouser pockets, his legs spread, his hair tied back, yet a few strands still escaping, it was the most relaxed stance she'd ever seen him in.

Merlin, he looked so _good_.

"Fred, you wanted me?" she said, making her presence known.

He turned and gave her a slow once-over—and maybe she was mistaken, but she thought his perusal held a hint of admiration. "Yes."

Convincing herself that there was nothing meaningful in that answer, she asked: "What for?"

Smiling, he pointed at the wall he'd been gazing at. "George and I have decided on putting up a mural of memories to celebrate my first year of recovery."

Hermione beamed, remembering that next week marked a year since Fred's release from St. Mungo's. After being hospitalised for six months for his near-death experience during the War, his health had returned in full, and he'd been allowed to return home.

"And you want me to help?"

He continued smiling, and if she hadn't been fighting to quell the flutters in her stomach, she might have noticed the mischievous glint in his eyes. "Definitely."

Eager now, she advanced closer to him. "So, what am I to do?"

He motioned to the wall. "Put both of your hands, palms down, on that wall."

She went and did so without question, splaying her fingers and pressing her flesh against the cool surface of the wall. It wasn't until she felt sucking motions beneath her palms that she realised something was amiss. She tried lifting her hands away from the wall and found she was unable to do so. Belatedly, she remembered who Fred Weasley was: a world-class prankster, and that she had unwittingly stepped into one of his traps.

She was about to turn her head to rail at him when she felt his hands on her hips, his thumbs trailing idle loops on the upper part of her bum. All of her angry words were choked off immediately. In the place of her anger came pleased astonishment at the fact that Fred was... _touching_ her.

"Fred," she gasped out, "what are you doing?"

He said nothing. Instead, his hands relinquished her hips in favour of sliding along her lower belly, creeping steadily upwards past her navel, her ribcage, to finally settle on the cups of her bra supporting her breasts. Where his fingers had touched remained a pleasant burning that was spreading upwards to where his digits now lay.

At the feel of his hot, wet mouth against her neck, Hermione closed her eyes and tilted her head sideways to allow him better access. He sucked at her flesh, making sure to drag his tongue in languid, maddening circles over her rapidly ticking pulse whilst he squeezed and fondled her breasts.

"Fred…Fred…"

Still, he said nothing even as he shoved her shirt up and yanked the cups of her bra down, exposing her breasts to the cool air. Her nipples hardened immediately, and he wasted no time twiddling them between his fingers. Each sharp pinch of his fingers sent exquisite little jolts through her flesh, shooting down to settle in the pit of her stomach where desire blossomed.

"Please…Fred—"

Her plea was cut short when he suddenly released her breast, grabbed her chin and twisted her face into a bruising kiss. He attacked her mouth, forcing his tongue between her lips, demanding, arrogant, and determined to overpower her. And she loved it; she loved the feel of his tongue moving hard against hers, his encompassing presence as he loomed over her, the sharp, sweet scent of his skin, freshly bathed yet holding an undercurrent of his natural musk. She gave as good as she got, kissing him back with equal fervour, longing to run her hands wildly through his hair, along his shoulders, but regretful that she couldn't.

He broke the kiss and she bit back a groan of protest. Grabbing her hips once more, he pulled her backwards, and unable to move too far, she was forced to arc her back slightly, her arse pushing outward and prominent. He released her, making no further movements, and the anticipation killed her. Her limbs grew stiff as she waited, unaware that she was holding her breath.

Finally, he spoke; a foreign, gravely quality in his voice. "I want to taste you. I want to taste your pussy and see if it's as sweet as I've Imagined. I want to feel you, wet and ready on my tongue. Would you like that? Would you like that, Hermione?"

Merlin, _yes_. Yes, she would.

"Yes…yes!" she panted.

And so he moved, shoving her mini-skirt up around her waist then yanking her baby-blue knickers down to rest at her ankles. Hastily, she stepped out of them and kicked them off to the side. His hands returned to a leisurely exploration of her body, the rough texture of his palms delicious against her skin as they glided over the round halves of her arse, smoothed down the back of her thighs, slid up along the inside of her thighs—

At the slightest touch of his fingertip against her sex, her body jerked and she cried out softly. He touched her again, using his middle finger to slowly part her swollen lips.

"You're so wet…" he said in that rasping tone as he inserted his finger deep into her. Hermione made a low, whimpering sound, squeezing her eyes shut. "So wet…" His forefinger joined the first, and he began to pump his fingers in and out of her, dragging them along her upper walls at a steady, unhurried pace. " _So fucking wet._ "

Any inhibitions she'd held on to was thrown to the wind. Hermione moaned aloud, her entire body straining to meet Fred's fingers. And it was exquisite the way his digits rubbed along her sensitive flesh, so good the way they fucked her hard and with unrelenting speed. But it was not enough. She wanted to feel him, firm and hot and thick, filling her up.

"Oh gods…Fred…please, just…please…" she begged, unable to articulate what she truly wanted, but she didn't need to. He already knew.

"Not yet," he said. "Not yet. I want to taste you first."

And when he pulled his fingers out of her, she only had a short moment of regret before he squatted and replaced his digits with his mouth.

" _Ohhhh_ , gods…yes…"

Fred's tongue against her pussy was like melted fudge: hot, silken and gloriously sweet. When he spread her legs wider and forced her arse ever more upwards in the air, any self-consciousness she might have felt was obliterated at the sensation of his questing tongue. He licked along the insides of her nether lips, trailing lazy, sensuous circles that had her moaning his name over and over again. He sucked and tasted and teased; lapping up her juices like a dehydrated man who'd found a spring.

He spread her legs even wider still, forcing her face and her breasts to be squashed up against the wall, but Hermione didn't complain. How could she when he was making her body sing a melody it had never sung before? He reached his right hand between her legs, and still laving at her thick, wet folds, he laid his thumb flat against her clitoris and began working the sensitive bud in clockwise circles.

All of Fred's ministrations had been superb, but what he was doing with his finger and tongue was divine. The building of her orgasm—once a steady trickle towards attainment—flourished in its intensity as he sucked and fucked her pussy with his tongue, and diddled, pinched and circled her nub. She was moaning constantly now, her mouth open, her eyes squeezed shut, her limbs rigid, and her body quivering uncontrollably as the flare of pleasure began to compress itself into a tight, powerful bead.

She cried out: " _Fuck_! Fred… _fuck_ …yes…I'm going to…I'm…" And just when that bead was about to implode within her mightily, Fred suddenly pulled away. She gasped out in disbelief, panting hard and feeling horribly cheated. She was actually on the verge of disappointed tears when she felt his left hand on her left hip, and the prod of firm flesh at her entrance. Then, gripping her right hip, he thrust his cock with brutal force deep into her pussy.

She groaned long and low, half-surprised, half-unsurprised by how thick and rock-hard he was, and how absolutely complete he made her feel. And before she could truly absorb the pleasurable fullness of him inside of her, he began to move; pulling out and easing in at a measured pace.

"Sweet Circe, you feel as good as you taste…" he groaned. "So long I've wanted to taste you… _gods_ …"

He accelerated his pace, squeezing her hips so tightly that she knew his fingerprints would be branded to her flesh for some time. Gone were the languid strokes as he began slamming his hips against her arse, jerking her body forwards with each forceful upward thrust.

Her breathing became uneven, and she found herself gasping for air. He pounded into her so hard, she soon found her breasts squashed up against the wall once more, her nipples scraping against the rough surface, his body curved over hers, his chest pressed into her back.

She whimpered unintelligible words interspersed with his name and cried expletives. Her orgasm was so near, her body yearned for it. _Demanded_ it. She began to shiver again, her muscles tense, her inner walls constricting involuntarily around his cock. Like this, she could feel every single sweet stroke of his cock as he fucked her harder and faster. She gave up on words when she began to feel that familiar, heated coil in the pit of her stomach unwinding downwards.

He leaned over her, his breath hot and ragged in her ear: "Come on me. Let me feel you…let me feel that sweet, tight pussy squeezing me as you come…come… _come_ …"

The coil grew as rigid as her muscles, stretching and straining beyond its limit before finally snapping. Her mouth opened wide, Hermione released a throaty sound that was a cross between a snarl and a groan as her inner walls clenched and unclenched around his cock so tightly, that he climaxed immediately on the heels of her own orgasm. He groaned into the back of her neck as his ejaculate shot out of him in splendid sporadic spurts, relishing the way her pussy still made feather-light pulses around his cock as her climax ebbed.

She sagged against the wall, her energy pleasantly depleted. The only thing that kept her from tumbling to the floor in a contented sigh was the abnormal glue that still held her palms against the wall, and the fact that Fred was partially lying on her, obviously spent as well.

"Finite," Fred said, finally pulling out and away from her, causing his semen to trickle down the inside of her thighs.

At the release of her hands from the wall, Hermione righted her clothing then rolled her shoulders to get out the kinks that had accumulated there. Then, suddenly feeling very shy despite all that had transpired between her and Fred, she turned to him with a blush.

"Err…" she began, but she was cut short when he suddenly pulled her forwards then spun her around. Pressing himself into her back, he lifted his hand and pointed at the wall. There, she could clearly make out all ten of her fingerprints embedded deeply into the surface.

He leant close to whisper huskily into her ear, "Thanks for the memento, sweetheart. That's one memory I'll _never_ forget."

**.v.v.**


End file.
